The Blessing (Secret hearts series - 5)
by writerfan2013
Summary: Slight AU. Arthur is King, and Merlin's magic is known. The Dread King has wounded Arthur, who lies in bed unable to walk. Gwen thinks she can help Arthur with a folk remedy Merlin has heard of, but will her idea be welcomed? Romance - shameless Arwen! Now:Ch 6,7 & 8 -:a daring plan to save Gwen. But can it also save the love between her and Arthur? The end. Thanks for reviews!-Sef
1. Chapter 1

"You're back."

Merlin nodded, hovering out of reach of Arthur's outstretched hand. It was odd to see the King ill, to see his blue eyes dull and sad, to see his unaccustomed gesture of greeting, as if he were truly relieved to see Merlin. Merlin didn't like it.

The royal bed chamber was crammed with people eager to tend to their young King. Merlin was staggering tired, and jostled by the courtiers around Arthur's bed. He saw Gwen, her eyes tired. But even in sadness her beauty was intact. Merlin smiled at her.

"What of the Dread King?" Arthur asked then, swatting away the doctors and Gwen, who had come with extra pillows to prop Arthur's useless leg.

"He's gone," said Merlin. "I searched everywhere, to every border, and there's no sign of him." He saw Gwen's eyes widen in hope.

"Damn him," said Arthur.

"Surely that's good," said Gwen. She moved to place the pillow on the bed, but Arthur snapped at her.

"Leave it! If I'd wanted my leg up in the air like a turkey in a butcher's shop, I'd have asked!"

Gwen shrank back. "Yes my lord."

Merlin frowned. "I'd rather know where the Dread King is," he said to Arthur, including Gwen in his gaze.

"Yes," said Arthur. "So we can bring an army to his door and crush him flat." He spoke bitterly, his sword hand clenching and opening as if it already held the blade. But Merlin had talked to the doctors. Arthur was unlikely to led an army into battle again.

"What other news," Gwen asked quickly.

"Nothing much," Merlin said. "The whole kingdom wants you to get well."

"Hah," said Arthur.

"Loads of people gave me good luck charms and remedies for pain," Merlin said.

"Pain I can bear," Arthur said shortly. "Being completely pointless -"

"You're not," said Merlin.

"Go on then, show me what I can do to rule Camelot in this state." Arthur smacked his hand on the sheets beside his wrecked leg.

Merlin hesitated. "My only idea-" He eyed the roomful of onlookers meaningfully.

"Everybody out!" ordered Arthur. "Not you, where are you going?" to Gwen. "My leg hurts, where's that pillow? Right. Merlin. You look terrible. Gwen, pour him some wine. Now Merlin, tell me everything."

"Even the folk remedies?" Merlin asked as Gwen gave him wine with her sweet smile and a look which said she was as worried about Arthur as Merlin.

"Will they let me walk again?" Arthur asked sarcastically.

Merlin winced. "The main one was basically just to kiss it better. 'The blessing kiss given in secret and in openness, seen with closed eyes, in a silence that speaks, May heal the half to a whole.'"

Gwen, stuffing the new pillow under Arthur's leg in such a way as to move him as little as possible, frowned at Merlin across the bed. "How can something be open and secret?" she wondered.

"Or seen with closed eyes," agreed Merlin. "But it's an old, old saying in the border towns."

"Load of bloody nonsense," said Arthur. "I have the best sorcerer in the land and even he can't cure me." He stopped short and glanced at Merlin, with something of his old wry look, the nearest Arthur ever got to apology for hurting Merlin's feelings. "What else, waiting for a black cat to cross my path?"

"Pretty much," said Merlin with a smile.

"Then tell me how you got on with your other mission."

Gwen looked up from lifting Arthur's damaged leg onto the pillow. "What other mission?"

"I thought I told everyone to get out," Arthur said. "Also, ow."

"Sorry my lord." She flinched away, and hurried from the room.

"That was a bit harsh," said Merlin as the door closed behind Gwen. "She was helping you."

"Well," said Arthur. "Welcome to the new me."

* * *

It was late. Gwen carried a bundle of linen nonetheless. Nobody challenged her as she went modestly from the laundry to the royal family's private quarters.

Usually she might expect to find Merlin nearby, working healing magic on the King's wounds, or just fetching and carrying for him. But tonight Arthur had sent Merlin away until he was rested enough to be useful. It was a sort of kindness, Gwen reflected. Arthur found it hard to show appreciation, and whatever news Merlin brought had not improved Arthur's mood. Being dismissed to sleep was the most generosity Merlin could expect.

In the corridor outside Arthur's bedchamber, Gwen paused. Her armful of sheets seemed flimsy and implausible. She took a breath, and knocked on Arthur's door - the servants' knock, discreet double tap, which required no answer unless it was to keep out. But even so she tapped very quietly.

No cry came, and so Gwen entered the outer chamber. The fire was banked up in the hearth, smoking a little, and the King's perpetual fruit bowl stood on his dining table. But Arthur had not sat at this table for two weeks. Gwen glanced at the tray which held his dinner things. He had eaten, at least. She could not see a wine jug, which was good - drinking impaired recovery, Merlin said, and although Arthur had made some progress, he was still horribly immobile.

Gwen hugged the linen to her chest. If Arthur never stood again-

But she must have faith. Aa d grasp at any idea, however unlikely, which might help him on the path to standing, walking, riding, fighting. -Being the athletic young King they all loved.

She tiptoed to Arthur's inner chamber, her wooden-soled shoes nevertheless clacking on the stone floor.

The room was dim. Torchlight from the castle walls glinted through the window. The missing wine jug and cup were on a chest close to the bed. Gwen stood for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust.

Arthur lay spread across his pillows, his blonde hair pale against the crimson embroidered cushions, a sheet thrown over his damaged right leg and the other leg dangling, bare, off the side of the bed. He wore only his night shirt, open at the neck. Arthur's right arm was flung towards his small table and the sword which lay there.

His left arm lifted and pointed straight at Gwen. "Come in if you're coming," said Arthur.

She jumped. "I've brought you some -"

"No, you haven't. Come in!"

She dropped her excuses on the window seat. "I just -"

The outer door opened and a guard looked in. "Is all well, sire? I heard voices." He saw Gwen standing beside the King's bed and goggled.

"Linen change," said Arthur carelessly. "Leave me."

The man disappeared.

"Honestly, does anybody in this castle knock?" said Arthur. He shuffled to an upright position, lifting his bad leg with his hands. He tilted his head at Gwen. "Well?"

She slipped her feet from her shoes.

"Stealth," said Arthur. "Interesting."

"I think silence is best," Gwen said.

"Given it is past midnight -"

"Absolute silence," she added, loosing her cloak. It dropped to the floor in a satin sigh, and Arthur's mouth clamped shut on further comment.

Gwen pattered towards the bed. "Are you well?" she whispered.

"You're the one sneaking into my chamber at midnight, waking me from my restorative rest, you tell me." He spoke at normal volume, and made a grab for her hand.

"Hush!" She evaded him and leaned from the left side of the bed, to touch his brow. He was warm but not feverish. Good. "How's your wound?"

"Fine. Don't look." But she was already peeling away the blanket. Arthur heaved a sigh, and closed his eyes. He had had enough of his ruined leg and didn't need to see it now. He felt her weight on the edge of the bed as she leaned across, then her warm breath on his calf, then her lips on his bad knee in a fleeting kiss.

"Gw-"

Her hand flew to his face, covering his eyes. He sank back, wondering, as he felt again her kiss on his knee beside the damage done by the Dread King's steel. He spoke, muffled by her palm. "Gwen, what in the world -"

But a man does not question much when a beautiful woman comes to his room and kisses him, and so when she made no answer he allowed it, more than allowed it, her lips like a promise on the healing skin... Or like a blessing. Was that what this was?

He inhaled sharply as her mouth brushed his scarred thigh. The silk of her bodice pressed his good leg. He squeezed his eyes closed on the temptation to see her face, see how she looked as she bestowed these intimacies. Also he had to concentrate a little, for it was deeply erotic, if rather peculiar.

Her hand was delicate over his eyes, warning him to be still as she placed light kisses in a trail matching the line of his terrible cut. He could not be sure where the next kiss would land, or where she might stop, or if she might not stop... When her nose bruised a sore spot though, he had to reach down and guide her head away.

She lay her cheek against his good calf, and sighed lightly. Arthur was still drowsily warm, the fair hair on his shin tickling her face, and his hand was hot. She felt his hesitation as his long fingers cupped her scalp, and it gave her courage. She had meant to find him asleep, kiss his leg, and hope that the rest of the folk remedy made sense later. It was still a liberty to take with a king, but one she knew Arthur, if he woke, might forgive. This, though - the salt taste of his skin, the spicy scent of his expensive cleansing oils, and his bemused, waking compliance - this was dangerous, for any unmarried woman with a man, and much more so for her and the King.

If Arthur yelled to the guard now, it would be the end of her at court. But his fingers wound themselves in her hair, and his breath rose and fell like a drawing tide. Emboldened, she took her hand from his eyes, and brought her palm to rest on his hip, and felt his shiver.

Arthur's eyes were wide open now, Gwen's slight form crouched on the bed beside him, her dark hair soft over his knee, her hand stroking his bare thigh, her eyes closed, expression blissful. He opened his mouth as her hand trailed under his shirt, along his ribs, finding the bruises there. Words were suddenly troublesome. Her fingers cherished him, creating equal parts horror and delight.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "I've never even kissed you!"

She laughed softly. He supposed it was a funny thing to say. But really, this was too much. Or not enough. He slid his hands under her arms to bring her to him.

"You're not supposed to move," she said archly.

"Bollocks to that." He hauled her bodily to eye level. She squeaked. Obviously, in her wanderings over his body, she had forgotten his strength. "You can't just walk in here and -" Her eyes were huge. She gazed at him, steady and with a faint smile. He cast aside his notional protests and drew his finger along her jaw.

"You love me," he said as her actions, and Merlin's old wives tale, knitted together in his bewildered brain. She had come here to cure him, not just as the loyal servant she had always been, not even as the friend he had come to trust - but as a woman wishing to care for a man. "I am such a fool." He shook his head. "How have I never seen that you love me?"

"A King is busy," she said. She traced his collar bone. "Also, you are a fool."

"You've got some nerve." He had her in the crook of his shield arm. She was trembling even more now than when he had kissed her for show, outside the Dread King's castle.

"Yes."

He leaned his cheek against hers, just gently, and then twisted so that they lay side by side. "You're in my bed," he pointed out.

"Mmn."

"Is this that cure Merlin was going on about?"

"It's not exactly in silence," she said.

"It's not exactly secret," he replied. "Did you really think I wouldn't wake up?"

"Maybe it doesn't have to be secret from you. It's secret from - them." She waved towards the door.

"Fair point. 'Seen with closed eyes'," he mused.

She looked at him patiently.

(Two minutes before, her right hand over his face, her mouth's touch sending tremors through him -) He hadn't seen, but he certainly knew she was there. "All right," he said.

"What about the silence that speaks?" she asked.

He frowned, then grinned. "Actually, I may not be as clever as Merlin, but I think I've got that one."

He leaned up on one elbow. "Guinevere."

"What-" Her question was halted by his hand, stroking her cheek.

She matched his gesture, running her fingers through his fringe - rather wonderful - and then touching his cheek.

He'd never yet kissed her, not properly. A kiss performed for onlookers does not count. She froze as his fingers travelled faintly over her earlobe and his thumb brushed her mouth, slightly parting her lips. She pressed her thumb to his lip likewise, good, permission was important - and then he bent and put his mouth to hers, nothing fake this time, no show, no flourish, just a man kissing a woman in his bed, and telling her in the only way he was any use at, that he loved her too.

She knew him, knew that action came naturally where words were hard. And she was kissing him back, was soft and warm and unafraid. Her hands crept over his back and around his waist. She tasted of sweet wine, and now he thought he could never taste it enough. The blue of her dress mingled with the red sheets rumpling around them. She smoothed her hands over his bad leg again, both legs, then his chest, and kissed him everywhere she touched; he kissed her neck, her collarbone, the hot skin over her heart. Her secret was now open to him, and yet still hidden from all others. And now she knew his last secret too, the shame of his injury overcome by her calm acceptance, and by the fact that with her in his arms, her passion and loveliness all for him, he could no longer resist.

They kissed and caressed for a long time until at last he drew back saying, "Enough, enough." He flung himself away, his left leg still entwined with her right. She turned her head to look at him. "We mustn't," Arthur said. He grimaced, pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's impossible."

"Yes."

Neither of them moved. He shifted in the bed and winced.

"What's wrong? Your leg?"

"No."

It was embarrassing to explain. "After a certain point a man can't - doesn't want to - stop."

"Oh. -That's the same for a woman," she pointed out.

He supposed it must be. What did he know? "Then, ah, would you like, would you mind?" How to ask such things, he didn't have the words. He found her hand, instead, and guided her.

"So then likewise," she said, amazing him. But Arthur had yet to fail at any physical challenge. He offered her his hand, open, and after a moment she took it and placed it where she wanted.

She giggled at first, then fell silent, worrying him until her gasp told him that his sword hand knew, as usual, what to do. She closed her eyes, her fingers tentative on him too, then learning. Her touch was astonishing, quite different from his own matter of fact approach: her sweetness and her reverence made him feel... A man, a whole man for the first time since his injury.

He watched her face, seeing his touch reflected in expressions playing across her lips and her fluttering eyelids. His novice hand followed where her gasps and jolts led, and knew she sought the same signs from him. They were easy to give, impossible not to give, and soon he clutched her hard, his cheek to her temple, his mouth gasping words he never planned. Her other arm was under him, digging into his spine but he didn't care. Her palm was slippery on him, was more intense pleasure than he had thought possible. "I love you," he said. "Guinevere. I love you." And then colours flew in front of his eyes, all the colours of Camelot, flags bright against a golden sky. Gwen held him tight, and spoke something too, his name, and all the flags fluttered away.

* * *

He propped himself on one elbow and poured her some wine into his cup. "Well," he said, passing it to her.

"Yes." She took the cup and drank, her eyes on him dark, and a little wary again. "That..." She gestured vaguely at the sheet tucked around their waists. "How did you know? What to do, how to..."

"Bluffing," said Arthur.

They laughed. Gwen kissed him then, fearlessly, a kiss of pure affection. He gave it back, and something more, a soldier's kiss, the kiss you could give a girl who shared your bed, and after a moment he removed the wine cup from her yielding fingers, shoved it at the table. and folded Gwen into his arms. The watch called two o'clock and Arthur's wound was quite forgotten.

* * *

(This may not be the end. Because nothing goes quite right in the course of true love. And because, whilst lying on a sunbed in Corfu last week, I have written more scenes from this AU which I cannot bear not to use. ;-) Watch this space. -Sef)


	2. Chapter 2

She was dewy, breathless, beautiful. He had always thought her pretty, and interesting. Now he wondered how he could have ever let her leave his sight. Every part of her was exquisite - her hair trailing over his pillow, her silken cheek in profile against the torchlit sky, her lips plump from his kisses. He had never had a lover before, and supposed it was best to begin with perfection. He caressed her chin and gazed and gazed - and for her part she seemed content to lie looking into his eyes, her hand resting on his belly. Even this casual touch sent fire throbbing through him - what would it be like if (when, surely when) they loved like man and wife?

Arthur plucked at the crumpled sheet and threw it on the floor. His leg, his bad leg, was aching, but it had moved, had even taken a little weight as he lifted Gwen higher up the pillows so he could better reach all parts of her not laced into a damn dress... The scars on his thigh, though, were horrid to see.

"All warriors have scars," said Gwen.

"You're right." Of course she was. Now he thought about it, she was frequently right. He smiled and kissed her wrist. "I won't hide them from you, at any rate."

She blushed - after everything! - and her eye strayed to his bedside table, and the papers there. She saw Arthur's seal. The imprint of his ring in red wax. And his signature, a bold challenge ending with a flourish: Pendragon.

"I never meant to interrupt royal business," she said, aiming for flirtatiousness, but then Arthur's expression changed to a ghastly horror, and he swept the papers onto the floor. "Hey." The last sheet lay face up and Gwen saw another royal seal, in unfamiliar black wax, and the title. 'Articles of Marriage for Arthur King of Camelot -'

"What's this?"

He tugged her towards him. " It's nothing. Not important now."

"I'm in your bed!" she said. She wriggled away from him and climbed out, scrabbling for her shoes. "And you're getting ready to marry someone else?"

"She's a strong ruler, she brings wealth, she could support me in my rule even though I am crippled," Arthur said, making everything worse.

"You lied to me!" Gwen cried.

"No, I -"

But no woman wants to hear her lover explain reasons for his betrayal.

"You let me do - this - you tell me you love me -and all the while you're planning to marry somebody else!"

"Gwen, come back, it doesn't matter -"

"Doesn't matter!" She was sobbing, gasping for breath. She shoved her feet into her shoes and snatched up her cloak, bundling it, with horrified hands, like shamefully filthy laundry under her arm. Her face ran with tears. "I thought I knew you, Arthur Pendragon," she said, and turned and stumbled from his chamber as if fiends pursued her.

Arthur flung himself back against his pillows. Gwen was gone. There was no sense creating a commotion now: it would only harm her reputation, and his. He would talk to her in the morning, sort this out.

He closed his eyes against the gathering dawn, and tentatively flexed his right leg. No pain. -Hardly any.

Guinevere had saved him, and Camelot. He fell asleep thinking of ways to thank her.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the wrinkled glass of the King's windows. The King sat at his table, having walked to it himself, and admired the morning. A new day. He had many things to do, and was already surrounded by wondering courtiers, but one task came first. Arthur turned to Merlin. "Gwen. Where is Guinevere?"

"Gone," said Merlin, and he gave Arthur a very hard stare. "She came to my chambers close to dawn and begged for a horse. She was crying. She wouldn't tell me why."

Arthur paled.

The courtiers, already gathered to view the miracle of the King's recovery, exchanged incredulous glances. "Sire, the tears of a servant girl - " began one advisor.

"Silence!" snapped Arthur and the man subsided. "Where was she going?" Arthur demanded of Merlin.

"She wouldn't say," Merlin said. He stepped close to Arthur and muttered, "What's happened?"

"Nothing," said Arthur. He flicked his fingers at the roomful of people. "Leave us."

"Sire- "

"I must consult my sorcerer," said Arthur icily. "Leave us."

"You never consult me," said Merlin when the door had closed.

"And I'm not starting now. What did Guinevere say to you?"

"Nothing."

"You're to go after her and bring her back. Go now." Arthur gestured dismissal at Merlin, but Merlin didn't move.

"She was upset. If you've hurt her-" Merlin bit off the end of that sentence, for you do not threaten a king, but Arthur heard it anyway.

"She was in my chambers," he said. "Last night."

Merlin looked shocked, as well he might. His lips moved, but he waited for Arthur to go on.

"That's it," said Arthur.

"It clearly isn't," said Merlin. "The night the fiends attacked, Gwen was in your chambers -"

"-Delivering soup -"

"-Right - and that didn't send her sobbing over the horizon."

"She found the treaty," Arthur said. "She was angry with me."

Merlin frowned.

"I can't explain," said Arthur. It was true. He would not compromise Gwens reputation, and there was no alternative explanation for her fury. He shook his head in frustration and his leg jarred painfully. Typical. "Anyway. It is all fine. She didn't give me a chance to tell her, but I'm not going through with this treaty. I can't. I've never met this queen and I don't need to marry her now that my leg is cured."

"Then why did you sign it?" asked Merlin.

"Oh," said Arthur. "That was before- Um. Give it to me, I will burn it."

"I can't," said Merlin.

"You will," said Arthur.

"No I mean I can't," said Merlin. "The council saw this morning that it was ready, and took it away. It's already on its way to your future bride..."

Arthur said up straight. "What? Dammit, send after the courier! Stop him!"

"Yes sire."

But even as Merlin bowed, the chamber door opened and Sir Leon, chief of the knights, strode in. "Forgive me sire. But the Dread King's hordes are upon us."

"See to that courier," said Arthur to Merlin.

"But you signed," Merlin said.

"Well, I can't get married if I am busy fighting a _war_ ," said Arthur. "Can I?" And he sprang up with a gleam in his eye. "My armour, man, fetch it!"

"Allow me sire," said Sir Leon. "

You will need Merlins skills for better things in the battle, I'm sure."

"Ha," said Arthur. "I held off these demons one handed and with a useless leg. Now I am whole again I have everything I need."

Sir Leon bowed, and went to fetch Arthur's armour.

Merlin stared at Arthur until Arthur said, "I gave you a job!"

"You gave me two jobs," said Merlin stubbornly. "Which one?"

"Just go," said Arthur. He took up his sword. At last. He could fight, the enemy was obligingly close by, and the way ahead was clear.

He sighed as Merlin finally slipped from the room, and turned his sword in the air, rehearsing how he would slice and slash once battle began.

He was healed, he need not marry any but the woman he loved, and life was good.

* * *

Merlin rode. He had the third finest horse in the stable - Arthur's of course the best, and then the one Merlin had given to Gwen, and now this one. On reflection he ought to have given Gwen this horse. Or a pony. As it is was, he stood little chance of catching her.

Deliberately misunderstanding the king was a risky thing to do - but Merlin had lived a life of gamble, and where Gwen was concerned he placed her happiness above any anger which Arthur might display on finding his orders disobeyed.

Besides, he would sort out the business with the courier and the marriage treaty once he had safely found Gwen, and she and he were on their way back.

He felt a dark chill creep over him - nerves, no doubt, and guilt at deceiving Arthur, - but he threw off the shadow and urged his horse on.


	3. Chapter 3

Gwen's work was done for the day. Outside the bright circle of her tent, shadows were forming as the desert's swift night descended.

Gwen closed her eyes a moment, glad of sudden solitude. The heat this far south was bearable, and her work was a blessing, but this new life so far from Camelot tired her more than she could have imagined. Every day her head grew heavier, and her heart with it.

"My lady."

Gwen's eyes snapped open. A slim young man with dark skin and lively eyes stood in the entrance to her boudoir. He wore the sash of high rank, as did Gwen herself. "Oleander."

He swooped a bow. "At your service. Is there anything you need?"

"No. Thank you. I will sleep, it's late."

"Of course. There are signs again of a group following our caravan. A goat has been taken. I'm sorry my lady. I cannot understand the tracks."

"Wolves," said Gwen.

"It would be many years since a northern wolf was seen here."

She sighed. "Men, then."

Even out here, even though these desert people stayed no more than a moon in any place, shifting their city as easily as they read their fortunes in the patterns of the dunes - even here, enemies sought them out.

"Please investigate," said Gwen. "But be subtle. Do not bring danger to our camp."

"You know I will do nothing rash."

"Yes." She smiled at him, and he at her, then he backed out of her tent, dropping the curtain closed after him.

Gwen sank back once more in her couch. The day had been successful, trading with like tribes from deeper in the desert. But that satisfaction did not diminish her wish for peace, the breeze of a cool northern hill, and a view of moonlit rooftops.

She blinked away those thoughts. This was her home now. She had made her life anew, and among new friends. The man she remembered was promised to another, married by now, perhaps with an heir already expected. She could not forget Arthur, or how she had loved him, but she must train herself to think of him as gone, like a cousin or brother lost at sea.

She had heard him say he loved her, but it was not the pure love she had dreamed about, only the heat of passion speaking, and doubtless she had said some very foolish things too, about eternity, and his wonderful honesty and strength and how she would always, always love and honour him...

But those things were done, and she was left carrying her shame, heavier than the small pack she had brought from Camelot, heavier than any load she had piled onto a camel's back, heavier even than the burden she bore of justice and care in this desert kingdom.

"My lady! A stranger is here!" Oleander burst into the tent. He dragged a man by the scruff of his neck, a dark-haired slender man in a red tunic with blue neckerchief, with sand-worn boots. "He claims to have important news for you."

Gwen jumped to her feet.

The man looked up at her and smiled, a smile with a gleam. He wore a flowing black cloak she had never seen before, but that smile she knew as well as the stars above Camelot.

"Merlin!" She could barely breathe. "Oleander, it's all right. Let him go."

"Hello Gwen," said Merlin. He glanced around. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

She steadied herself in the chair back. Nothing made sense. How was Merlin here? Of course, Arthur was an excellent tracker. He had probably learned desert skills as he went, becoming expert in this as he did in everything he tried. "You found me," she said, grasping at the situation.

Merlin nodded.

He looked well, she thought. Weary and a little sunburned, but strong and well and so much like home. She realised her legs were trembling.

Gradually thought returned. The horses, or camels, must be nearby and an entourage would need feeding and of course there must be special quarters found for Arthur -

"I will arrange tents for you all," she said.

"No need," said Merlin. "I'm alone."

"You! But I thought-"

"It's just me," said Merlin.

"I'm sorry," Gwen said. "I didn't mean - Of course it's you."

And she flung herself into his arms.

* * *

"The dates are nice," said Merlin, admiring the heaped plate brought by the shy-eyed women of Gwen's people..

"I miss apples, and pears, and quince," she said. "They don't grow well here."

He smiled, and selected the fattest date. He closed his fingers over it, then opened his palm like a man releasing a dove - and there was a perfect apple, shiny and the colour of new grass.

Gwen took it. He watched her bite into it, the juice trickling over her chin. "Oh yes," she said. She cleaned her face with her handkerchief. "Sorry. I'm a mess."

"You're more beautiful than ever," Merlin said.

She stared, at this compliment, but he did not blush. "Why did you come to find me?"

"You were upset. You asked me for help in the middle of the night, then wouldn't tell me what was wrong. You just said you were leaving, and that I couldn't do anything to stop you." He spread his hands. "I came to make sure you were all right."

He cut his eyes at the comforts which surrounded them. "And obviously you are."

"People here have been very kind."

"I bet you were kind to them first."

She shrugged.

"Are you happy, then?" he asked.

She rose to her feet, casting the apple core onto the table. "What's happiness?" She paced about, her skirts stirring a tiny breeze.

"Being with the people you care about," said Merlin at once.

"I care about these people," she said.

His eyes showed his suspicion at that statement.

"I miss you all, of course," she said. "But... This is my home now. "

He studied her for some moments. She half-expected the gold to flare in his eyes then, a sign of magic working within him as he tried to read her thoughts. But his eyes were a steady blue, and rather sad.

"You must be tired," she said. "It is a long ride from any town."

"Oh, I didn't ride," said Merlin. "I flew. I'm a sorcerer, remember?"

"But your boots-"

"Oh. I came down about a mile off target. Now I know where to find you, I can pop back any time."

He was grinning, but she had the strangest feeling that now he was the one who was lying.

"Then you won't stay?" she said. "I wish you would. I would love to hear all the news."

"I can hardly stay in your tent," he said.

"Not here," she said with a smile. "I'll arrange a bed for you in Oleander's tent. He is a friend, and will see you have everything you need."

"Thanks."

"I'm glad you're here Merlin," she said as he turned to go. "It's been such a long time..."

"You were hard to find."

"I know."

She looked again at his shoes as he left. She was right. Nobody with the benefit of magical flying powers would have soles so worn. He had ridden here, every step. And Arthur had not.

Why?

* * *

Merlin cast the cloak over himself, covering his head. He had no looking glass to check that his boots were sufficiently covered, but it was dark: if stray toes were showing, then with luck they would go unnoticed.

The rest of him was now invisible.

Merlin slipped from the tent he was to share with Oleander, and crunched across the gritty sand to Gwen's tent. His progress was far too noisy - he quickly spoke words of power, drawing in a desert wind to rattle the tent canvas, and hide the sound of his footsteps.

Gwen lay resting on her bed. Her eyes were closed, but Merlin could tell from her rigid shoulders that she was not asleep.

He stood a respectful distance away and studied her.

His initial impression was correct. Gwen looked tired, worn down. She bore it steadfastly, of course, but a shadow was on her, a shadow Merlin half-recognized.

Merlin stretched his hand towards Gwen. In the old language he whispered words bidding grief depart. He waited, watching a shower of gold sparks drift from his hands onto Gwen's taut face. But although Gwen shifted, frowning, the burden she carried lessened not one bit.

It was sucking the light from her, draining her sweet nature. The idea of Gwen becoming bittter and angry, as Arthur had been when he thought himself permanently crippled, turned Merlin's stomach.

He sent a spell of gentle healing instead, and stepped back. He needed to find out what was wrong with Gwen, but he also needed to rendezvous with Arthur. Camelot's knights were skilled and brave, but if, when, Arthur caught up with the Dread King's army, the battle would be of magic as well as steel.

"Merlin?" came Gwen's voice. She sat up.

Merlin slipped from the cloak at once. "It's me."

"I felt your spell on me, "she said. "Or I heard you speak. I don't know."

Given that she was a queen and Merlin was a man who had sneaked into her bedroom, she seemed remarkably calm. "Just trying to help you sleep," Merlin said. "I thought you looked... Like something was on your mind."

She smiled painfully. "There's always something. Many things."

"I'll leave you to rest."

Good night."

"Gwen. You haven't asked me anything about - Arthur."

She hesitated at his name, a flinch, quickly hidden with a shake of her hair. "No."

She stared at Merlin, and he at her, until Gwen's shoulders slumped, and she pulled her robe around her and indicated for Merlin to sit on the end of her bed.

"You cared about Arthur once," said Merlin.

She flushed. "It's difficult to explain. I know he's your friend. "

"So are you," said Merlin.

"Arthur is not the man I thought he was," she said. "I couldn't stay. I - Mistakes were made. I'm glad he's well again." Honesty struggled with hurt. "But he, I, our intentions were different- "

"Arthur told me," said Merlin.

"What!"

Merlin squirmed. "He said...You were in his bed chamber."

"Hmmm."

"So it's true." He looked a bit downcast at that.

"I was in his bed," said Gwen baldly.

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. His mouth fell open. "Oh. Oh."

She looked down at her hands. "He didn't mention that detail then."

"He probably thought I'd worked it out," said Merlin softly. "But I hadn't."

"Of course... You always think the best of people." She touched his hand. "Why would you think I could be capable of anything so stupid!"

"It's not stupid if you love someone," he said.

She sighed.

Merlin sighed too. "I knew he wasn't telling me the whole story."

"Why?"

"I've upset plenty of people in my life," said Merlin. "Really offended people. Including Arthur. But none of those people have ever run away, a thousand miles, to become queen of a desert tribe."

Gwen grimaced. "I can't go back," she said. "When you return to Camelot, I can't come with you. I don't want to see him ever again."

"Right," said Merlin.

"I'm glad to see you though," she added. "Stay a while with us, please. I want to show you the camp. Maybe you can help me find out how our livestock is being taken in the night. Set up an enchantment, or something..." Her words ended on a yawn. She flopped onto her pillows. "You should go. Oleander is a light sleeper, and a quick swordsman."

She closed her eyes. Merlin watched her sink into sleep. The shadow was still there, all around, like a thread spun from darkness. Merlin's healing spell had thinned it slightly - enough, perhaps, for Gwen to have peaceful dreams.

Merlin rose, bowed, and murmured his goodnight.


	4. Chapter 4

It was painful to ride, painful to walk, painful to lie in bed with maps and try to invent strategy. It was painful to pursue the Dread King's hordes month after month and have them always a week ahead, fleeing battle, denying Arthur's revenge. It was painful to think of Guinevere.

So he rode.

"Any word from Merlin?" Arthur asked as he did every day when they made camp. "It's been a month since he entered the southern desert."

"No my Lord." It was Sir Leon who spoke.

"And the Dread King?"

"Still ahead of us, sire."

Arthur closed his eyes. "Leave me."

"Yes sire."

They had chased the Dread King and his army of flying fiends for months. Camelot was safe, as the horde had stayed only a few days, but Arthur could not take comfort from that. The Dread King must be stopped, and punishment must be meted out for the harm done to Arthur, Camelot and the whole five kingdoms.

But it was hard to fight a war when the enemy kept flying away.

"My lord." Sir Leon, back again.

"Yes." Arthur opened his eyes, tried to appear alert.

"The horde has settled in a valley some ten miles hence. It is close to the camp of some nomadic desert traders."

Arthur sat up. "How long to get us there?" They were a large train, and only the mounted knights could move with any speed.

"A day at least."

"Then let's move. We will march in darkness if it brings us the chance to strike. Give the orders."

"Yes sire. One further thing-"

Arthur felt his heart begin to race. Guinevere. There was news.

"Merlin has been sighted distantly by the scout. He's returning to camp."

"Alone?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, alone."

Arthur waved Leon away. Merlin had been gone a long time. He probably imagined Arthur did not know he was away searching for Gwen even while he trailed the fiendish horde. Arthur did not forbid it. How could he, when he himself was on the same dual mission?

Arthur lay his head on his pillow. He ached all over, but he must not slow down. He would close his eyes now, but as soon as the mounts were prepared he must spring up and be ready, again, to ride. And it would hurt.

Good.

* * *

Arthur squinted at Merlin against the light streaming through the folds of the tent. The younger man was silhouetted, and for the first time Arthur saw how he had grown and changed during the pursuit of the Dread King, and the unspoken quest to find Guinevere. Merlin had broadened, and his wiry strength had become staunch shoulder and narrow hip. His dark hair feathered his brow and cheeks, complementing his bright blue eyes. Arthur had always thought his friend rather weedy and sallow in appearance. If that had ever been true, now it certainly was not.

He was glimpsing Merlin as a woman might see him, a gleaming-eyed sorcerer of many victories - and it made Arthur uncomfortable.

Merlin shifted as Arthur stared, and his features glowed in reflected sunlight. "She won't see you," he said.

"What? Why not?" I've come all this way, Arthur thought. And my leg is bloody killing me. He poured himself sweet desert wine from the pewter jug on his table and gulped at it, hoping to ease the throb in his half-healed right thigh.

"Let me." Merlin stepped forward and lifted a hand to heal the King, but Arthur gestured him back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Well. Partly Gwen's still too upset with you. You broke her heart," and Merlin gave Arthur a stony glare, quite inappropriate from a courtier to a king, except that Merlin could do what he liked, because of magic. And always had, Arthur realised. Only his loyalty to Arthur had kept him as a lowly servant to the Pendragons.

Arthur grimaced. "Yes. Moving on."

"Also she's too busy being Queen," said Merlin, and Arthur choked on his wine.

* * *

Gwen was married. Married to some desert prince, just because he was handsome and quick with his sword and not, presumably, such a heartless clutz as Arthur. "Damn!"

"I thought you'd be pleased," said Merlin.

"Pleased!"

"Yes, that now she's royalty just like you."

"Yes, I'm delighted. She's married and I will never get the chance to -"

"Hang on. Married. I never said she was married."

"But-"

"They elect their leaders here," said Merlin. "Based on skill."

He gave Arthur an odd look. "Why would Gwen marry anyone but you?"

"Because-" Arthur stopped. Merlin had a strange gleam in his eye. As if waiting for Arthur, inevitably, to trip himself up. He swallowed. "What skill?"

"At ruling. She's excellent. The people love her."

"Of course they do. It's Guinevere. She can do anything."

"Yes, she can," said Merlin softly, and there was that odd note again.

Arthur paced the tent, his leg jarring with every step. "I must see her. "

"First you'll need an appointment for an audience," said Merlin. He was clearly enjoying this. "Then you can ask her."

"Audience..." Gwen, on a throne, dispensing wisdom and justice. It made perfect sense. It was work she was born to do.

"I can get you a slot if you like," Merlin offered very casually. "I'll have to say it's not you of course. Make up a name. Who do you want to be? Farmer Noname of the Outer Desert?"

"It's not funny!"

"It is a bit."

"It's not-"

"There's more news," Merlin said. "The Dread King."

"I know. Settled not far from a desert people's camp."

"Gwen's camp."

Arthur blinked. "Does she know?"

"They have suffered minor attacks this last few months. They think it's wild animals. I think it's outlying scouts."

"Probably right."

"That's not the news."

"What then?" Arthur swigged more wine.

Merlin said, "Did Gwen get hurt, in the forest? When your leg-?" No need for elaboration.

"No. Yes. A scratch."

Merlin dropped into Arthur's empty chair. "Damn."

"What?"

"That's how," Merlin said. He jumped up again. "The scratch. It's poison, like your leg wound. Affects more than the body. The Dread King marked her. He's not fleeing you, Arthur. He's following Gwen."

Arthur stopped dead.

"Have some wine," Merlin said. Arthur wordlessly obeyed. "I set some enchantments around the edges of Gwen's camp. They should keep the horde away until you get there."

"Good." Arthur began pacing again.

"I'm going back now. If the enchantment doesn't hold, Gwen will need my help."

"You can't ride that distance twice in one night." Arthur, pacing, winced as he turned.

"You haven't been resting that leg at all, have you," said Merlin.

"I'm fine," said Arthur. "I'll rest after the battle." Three steps, turn, three more steps. "But if Gwen is marked... Winning this battle is not enough. We need to work out how to stop the demon following her."

"I know," said Merlin. "I have to think about that. Are you sure you don't want me to give you a healing spell?"

"I'm fine!"

As he reached the end of another three steps' length of the tent, Arthur turned, and the world turned too, the wrong way, upside down. "I don't feel very -"

Merlin caught him easily in his arms and carried him to the bed. "Your leg needs rest," he said. "I knew you'd be too stubborn to accept help. So I drugged the wine."

"I hate you," said Arthur as the light dimmed and the tent seemed to fold over his mouth and nose.

"No you don't," said Merlin.

He pressed Arthur back against the pillows. Merlin lay his palm on Arthur's brow, checking temperature. Arthur's lips formed words of faint protest, and Gwen's name. Then he snored.

And that was the end, for then.


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you for agreeing to see my friend," said Merlin. "He was so sure you would not have time for his petition."

"I have time for any one of my adopted people," Gwen said. She shook Merlin's hand. "And how like you to find someone who needed help, and help them."

She led the way from her tent, to walk him to his horse. It was a glaring day, and the hot desert wind tore at the tents. "I've missed you," said Gwen. "I missed Camelot."

"We - all - missed you," said Merlin as Gwen walked him to his horse. He paused to face Gwen, his hair flying around his face and the tents and the horses' mares fluttering all around. "Could you ever change your mind about coming back? Could - I change your mind?"

It took a moment to understand his meaning. But his elaborately casual pose and bitten lip told her the truth.

It was dizzying, that this man, who could crush a castle with a flick of his fingers, who could raise tides and call down dragons, would love her. Gwen looked and saw the sorcerer, looked again and saw her steadfast friend, looked once again and saw just Merlin. "No," she said. "Camelot has Arthur. You can't leave him and I can't see him."

He nodded.

"Sorry", she said . "If things were different-"

"I know. I had to try though."

She threw her arms around his neck. "You're a true friend and one I don't deserve."

"I think you deserve a great deal," he said . "But I understand. -I've got to go." He hesitated, then bent and kissed her gently on the cheek. She blushed and he let her go at once, saying, "Now I'd better go and fetch my friend."

"No need," said Arthur's voice. "I'm here . And what exactly is going on?"

* * *

A crowd had gathered, an impromptu court around the Queen, as always happened when Gwen moved among the people. And now this chainmail stranger demanded answers of her! Oleander moved swiftly to stand between Gwen and her visitor.

"Arthur!" Gwen's voice cracked.

Arthur stood - sweating in his full court cloak and armour, his blonde hair limp across his forehead and his nose very sunburned - but he stood. She could see no favour to his uninjured leg. He could walk. She could not tear her gaze from the miracle that was Arthur, standing.

Gwen was staring at him. Arthur maintained military calm. He had met many queens, old and new. But Gwen! He could feel himself growing warmer under her gaze than beneath the fierce desert sun. Meanwhile Gwen looked cool and serene. She wore the flimsy trailing robes of the desert people, the delicate fabric modestly layered in many colours, a rainbow over Gwen's slim form. Her eyes were tired and sad, but she set her mouth in a stern line.

"I don't want to see you," she said in a low voice.

Arthur's jaw stiffened. "It's not a social call."

Oleander stepped forward. "Respect for our Queen," he hissed.

Arthur took the measure of him, and of the thirty other men and women in the crowd, each bearing an angry face and a long dagger. "Your majesty," said Arthur deliberately. He bowed. "My purpose in visiting your court is to bring news."

The hurt at this pierced Gwen's careful armour of pride and distance. This proved, then, that he did not understand how he had injured her. "Then please continue."

"The Dread King has pursued you. All the way across the northern lands and down through the middle sea to here."

She frowned. "There have been reports of wolves..."

"Not wolves," said Arthur.

"His fiends."

"If you value your people, you must protect them."

"We will move tomorrow. We have no stone castle to hold us to one place," she said, lifting her chin. "We are nomadic."

"They will follow you," Arthur said, ignoring her icy manner. "They have been following you since the day you and I entered his castle."

As he spoke, she knew it to be true. The King's enmity was not with Camelot. It was with her.

"I have sensed it," said Merlin. "As I searched for you... I felt the Dread King's evil shadow on my back."

"As have I," confessed Gwen. "I thought it was the shadow of my own demons. But now I see the shadow was real."

"The King pursues you and you alone," said Arthur.

"What does he want with Gwen?" Merlin asked.

Arthur gave him a pitying look. "What does any man want of a beautiful woman?"

Merlin said evenly, "To make her his bride."

Gwen looked from one to the other.

"Don't be a fool," said Arthur.

"Not every man is an honourable as you," Gwen said gently to Merlin. She smiled at him and had the painful satisfaction of seeing Arthur flinch. She turned to Arthur then and said in her most regal manner, "How did the Dread King find me here? What can have led him to my people?"

"If there is a traitor, we will rip out his heart!" cried Oleander.

"No traitor," said Merlin. "But I think, I'm afraid. It's my fault. He followed me while I was searching for you, and when I found you, I led him straight to you."

Arthur looked grim. Gwen was aghast.

"The wound you received in the forest may have acted as a beacon, drawing the Dread King in."

"That was nothing," said Gwen. "It's long gone. You can't even see where it was."

Merlin stepped forward and , glancing up at Gwen for permission, took her hand, exposing her bare arm. He cast his other hand along her arm, and golden sparks appeared, showing a long, deep cut, running from Gwen's wrist all the way up her arm and to her heart.

The crowd gasped.

"It is as serious as the blow that Arthur sustained," Merlin said, making another pass over Gwen's arm. The golden marks vanished. "Even though you couldn't see it."

Arthur took an involuntary step towards Gwen. Oleander stepped forward too, his hand on his sword. Arthur raised his eyebrows at him. Merlin measured them both with his gaze, his fingers slipping from Gwen's arm.

Gwen sighed. "We are all allies here," she said firmly. "What are we going to do?"

"Fight the king," said Arthur.

"How can we do that?" Gwen asked. "My people are traders. We can fight but we are few, and out here in the desert we are exposed, without any means of forming a defense- " Her mind flew through ideas for protection and siege. But she had faced the King's hordes before, and knew that once they arrived here, the situation was hopeless. "We do not have enough fighters to defend ourselves, never mind enough to defeat the Dread King."

"Then it's lucky I brought an army," said Arthur.

* * *

"I know you're there," said Arthur. He lay down his map and placed his hand on his sword hilt.

Merlin cast off the cloak and strode into the centre of Arthur's tent. Their camp was now joined with Gwen's, the better to defend it when the hordes arrived. "Good."

"Good! How? I could have run you through!" Arthur flung himself back in his chair. Honestly, Merlin was going to get himself killed one day with his thoughtlessness.

"The cloak doesn't disguise you from your friends," Merlin said. "The people who care about you can always detect that you're there."

"Then what's the point of using it on me?"

"I just wanted.. to be sure," Merlin said.

"What?" Arthur stood.

"Because of Gwen." Merlin stood still. Arthur felt the otherworldly weight of Merlin's steady, dark blue gaze.

Slowly the pieces fell into place. "Gwen," said Arthur slowly.

"I loved her since the first day I arrived at Camelot," said Merlin. "But she. Anyway, it doesn't matter now."

Arthur thrust his hand out and gripped Merlin's shoulder. "She knows?"

Merlin shrugged.

Arthur winced. "I am sorry," he said, "but not really."

"Yeah."

Arthur eyed Merlin's cloak, now draped over a stool. The cloak of love and invisibility. He stood, and gathered up the cloak and let it run through his fingers. The fabric was so light it could not be felt as a weight.

"It's sea silk," said Merlin. "And enchanted."

"How big is it?"

Merlin gestured. "What you see."

"Can it be made bigger?" Arthur ran the black silk through his hands, over and over. An enemy might not see you. But a friend would know you were beside them.

"It needs the finest needlework skills."

"Which we have in the form of Guinevere. And her ladies in waiting." Arthur nodded, his fingers on the cloth, caressing it like a lover's hair, a lover's skin - He stilled, and folded the cloak.

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

Arthur grinned. "Something dangerous."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Why do I even ask?"


	6. Chapter 6

"That's not a bad idea," said Gwen. She said it to Oleander, even though it was Arthur's idea.

Merlin screwed up his nose. "Using you as bait!"

They all four sat in Gwen's tent. The pink light of a desert morning slanted in through the doorway. Outside, men in chainmail bantered with those in robes. Horses and camels shuffled uneasily, glancing at each other, ready to break truce at any second. The camp was breaking up, only awaiting its leaders' decision where to go.

Gwen held the sea silk cloak in her lap. Oleander gripped the hilt of his sword and gazed often at Arthur. Merlin was nearest Gwen, and unhappy.

Arthur drew a deep breath, called silently for patience, and began again. "Think about it. Guinevere's people can escape into the desert while she walks on into the dunes. The Dread King will think she is alone. He might not bring so many fiends. Then we reveal ourselves, drive him into the Treacherous Quarter, surround him and defeat him."

"Then it is decided," said Gwen. She stood, the black cloak flowing from her hands like midnight water. The men also got to their feet. "We will enlarge the cloak as we travel. When we reach the treacherous quarter, where a crust of sand covers the great abyss, I will walk out towards it, and a small party of our soldiers will follow, hidden by the cloak." She flung the cloak around Merlin's shoulders, and fastened it at his throat. "I will lead the King towards the abyss. You three must cut off his retreat."

"There is still the matter of pure love's kiss," said Oleander. He ducked his head at Gwen. "We must break the curse, majesty. Or these demons will simply pursue us once the northerners have left."

She patted Oleander's shoulder. "If Merlin's magic books say that's what's needed, well, then we must unravel that mystery once the Dread King is defeated. -Even of it is not...quite clear how." She lifted her chin and directed her gaze firmly away from everyone, especially Arthur.

Merlin winced.

"Don't worry," said Arthur grimly. "We'll work something out." The curse of the Dread King could only be broken by the wounded person exchanging a kiss of pure love. Why not via a magical amulet, or secret words of power, or any of the usual tomfoolery, Arthur did not know. But his own wound had been healed by love and so he could not doubt what Merlin's research had found.

He caught her eye at last. She was gazing at him with sorrow in her eyes, but then Merlin plucked her sleeve and she turned to him with a glad smile. His black sorcerer's cloak mingled with the purple and red chiffon of her robes, and Arthur's heart clenched.

"It's all right," said Merlin to Gwen, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," she whispered, and Arthur wondered if they had forgotten he was still standing there, not two paces away.

"My lady," said Oleander with an exaggerated cough, saving Arthur the bother. "We should move."

"Of course." Gwen made for her camel, and there was a minor scuffle as Oleander and Arthur both stepped to help her mount. Gwen dodged them lightly and sprang into the saddle unaided. Arthur checked the saddle straps with special concentration. Merlin handed up the reins, beating Oleander to that task. "Thank you," she said, addressing all of them, and it was the first time in months that Arthur had seen her laugh.

* * *

The journey to the Treacherous Quarter took days. Gwen rode surrounded by her people, occasionally riding in one of the covered carts to supervise the sewing of the larger magic cloak. As the sand grew deeper and the sun grew fiercer, she rode more frequently with Merlin, and therefore, with Arthur.

Their talk was limited at first, but gradually sheer practicality meant that they must exchange words. On the day that the cloak was complete, and Merlin went to check it, Arthur found that, the great entourage aside, he and Gwen were alone.

"We will owe our lives to Merlin," he said. "Again."

Gwen smiled.

Arthur formed a sentence in his head which began casually, _I've been wondering about you and Merlin,_ but which came out as, "You let Merlin kiss you." He winced at his own crassness, but honesty was at least quick.

"And?" She was giving nothing.

He plunged in. "I thought - at the Dreads King's castle - and at Camelot - only I- " _Only I had ever been allowed._ Of course, the kiss Arthur had seen Merlin give Gwen was a mere brush on the cheek. But still. Arthur knew that it meant more to Merlin, meant, perhaps, everything that was in his own heart.

"Merlin is my friend," said Gwen. "And yours. If he asked me to pretend to be his mistress in order to fool an enemy" - oh God, she could see his mind! - "then I would do it without hesitation. As I did with you."

"We weren't friends," Arthur pointed out.

"We're still not," she said.

Oleander cantered up level with the two of them. "The Treacherous Quarter is ahead, my lady."

Arthur and Gwen were still staring at each other, tight-lipped, across the bump and sway of their camels' gait. He knew that everything he wanted to understand was in her eyes, but he could not read them. And her proud face told him that all he might say to her was still locked, useless inside his own heart. "All right," said Arthur, without breaking eye contact. "Let's do this."

"I'm ready," said Gwen. She blinked, but did not turn away.

Now Merlin came up. "Arthur! The Dread King is behind us. The cloak is ready. But there's a problem."

At last Arthur had to look away from Gwen's beauty and his own pain. "What?"

Merlin pointed to the horizon. "There's a sandstorm coming this way."


	7. Chapter 7

Oh this was not appropriate. Him and Gwen and Oleander and Merlin squashed up together in the low space beneath the overhang of a wadi, with the giant magic cloak as a canopy to cover the entrance and keep out some sand. There was all night to get through and then, assuming the storm subsided, the plan to trap the Dread King might not work. Arthur had rarely felt so helpless.

Merlin's elbow jabbed him in the face. He recoiled, and banged his own elbow on the rock at the back of the overhang. "Do you mind."

Outside, the wind howled. Gwen's people, and Arthur's soldiers, had taken cover in a larger hollow a mile or so away. But Arthur had led their party on towards the Treacherous Quarter, in hope of bringing the Dread King after them. Oleander knew of this small shelter, although he had seemed dismayed at its small size.

Sand clung to the outside of the cloak. Oleander patiently shook it loose every few minutes.

With luck, perhaps the Dread King would be smothered by this storm and save Arthur the trouble. But Arthur had been rather short on luck these last few months.

Merlin shifted, and got Arthur again, this time with a knee. "Ow! Merlin!"

"Sorry."

"I'll move up," said Gwen.

This meant she would move closer to Oleander to allow Merlin to move closer to her. Arthur ground his teeth. "Everyone just keep still and try to rest. I know this is uncomfortable but we need to stay focused."

"I'm comfy."

"Shut up, Merlin."

* * *

Night fell, abruptly as it always did out here. One moment you might be standing, admiring a flaming sunset, the world's perfection made visible - a beautiful woman in your arms showing you that your love has been returned as you always hoped - the next moment, a deafening blackness, all light gone, and your hopes for the future crushed.

The sandstorm made the blackness complete. Merlin whispered a word, and a tiny light appeared above their heads, floating. "Thank you," said Gwen.

"The wind is dying," said Oleander. "We must be silent if the fiends are not to find us."

He was right. The plan needed daylight. "We'll sleep," said Arthur. "Oleander, you and I can take turns at keeping watch."

"We will all take turns," said Gwen. "No one among us needs less sleep than another."

"All right," Arthur said, and Gwen nodded in satisfaction. Was she thinking of their night beside the campfire, and how she had leapt to demand her turn at the watch? Or, to his shame, how she had thrust herself between him and the Dread King, earning the wound which brought all this trouble? Perhaps she thought of the last time they lay side by side, and the trust gained breath by breath as she risked everything, only to have him, seemingly, cast it aside.

They were nose to nose in the sand. Oleander was on the other side of Gwen, propped on one elbow, scanning for sign of the Dread King. Merlin had his elbow in Arthur's ribs, snoring in the tiny space between Arthur and the cliff wall. The light drifted above them, giving Gwen's face a soft candlelight glow.

Arthur had never feared to look into an enemy's eyes, never flinched from hard work or the threat of death. Yet meeting Gwen's gaze took all his nerve. She blinked calmly, reminding him of her gentle resolve, the night she came to his chamber to heal him.

There was no possibility of talk. Their comrades were inches away and their enemies all around.

It was probably a mercy. His strength was never in his words. Give him a sword, a bow, a snake-headed monster any day. To apologise and explain, to try to excuse what had happened, when so much else had happened since - he did not know where to start.

Gwen sighed. She gave him a rueful smile as if acknowledging his uselessness with speeches. He grimaced back. Actions spoke louder, but crushed up in this cave nobody could move.

Although -

Arthur brought his shield hand slowly up to his chest, and worked his other hand round, propping himself on one elbow so he could pull off the shield hand glove. Behind him, Merlin immediately spread out and occupied the extra space, like a cat in front of a hearth.

Gwen's gaze never left Arthur's face as Arthur lifted his bare shield hand to show her. The desert breeze was hot and insistent on his skin. On his index finger was his silver ring. He slid it free and held it out to her.

There was nothing else he could do.

She ignored the ring, and looked instead at Arthur. His jaw was set like a man who had determined to do or die. A day's dirt and swear streaked his skin and bedraggled his hair. He wore his mail, as always, and his exposed hand was rough with a lifetime's riding. A typical soldier, doing what was right out of obligation. But his eyes were anxious and now she saw the man she had sought to heal, the man who lay wondering as she kissed him, who responded with passion but also courtesy, never assuming the next action.

The man who told her he loved her.

Gwen wriggled her hand free too, in this enclosed space, and touched Arthur's cheek with the backs of her fingers. His lips parted and she saw tears start in his eyes. She stroked his cheek, and he reached for her too, his fingers in her hair. She felt a tear trickle over her thumb.

That was when she touched his wrist to make him draw back. The ring was still in his hand. She met his eye seriously, searching for any doubt, any sign that he did this for duty, and found none. Then Gwen closed her hand over his fingers, and the ring, and their betrothal was sealed.

* * *

Joy is impossible to contain in a small space but he had to try. He wanted to clasp her, kiss her oh God kiss her, show her with every touch that he loved and admired her more than any woman, prove his devotion in any way she wanted. Instead, with Merlin's snores and Oleander's taut watchfulness either side of them, he must hold Guinevere's hand, or touch her silken hair, or only look at her, setting aside those other things for another time.

She was looking straight back. Her slighter frame had more freedom of motion and she used it to caress his brow and jaw, to rest her warm hand on his neck, to trace his lips with the tips of her fingers.

"Is all well, my lady?" Oleander's voice, low.

"Yes. Rest. Please."

"As you wish."

It was hard to remember that apart from Merlin, nobody knew about Guinevere, about Guinevere loving him and he her. It seemed that the world should know. The ring on her finger signalled their public intent, yet this would come as a great surprise to everyone except Merlin.

And tomorrow Gwen would be used as bait in the trap for the Dread King. She might die, they all might, and nobody would ever know of this promise.

"Guinevere." He breathed it, for her eyes were now closed.

"Arthur?"

"Marry me."

For answer, she brought the ring to his cheek.

"I mean tomorrow. Which of your people can do it?"

She frowned. "Only a wise woman or man. An elder or sorcerer. Merlin could."

"I'm not asking Merlin," said Arthur.

"Makes a change," came Merlin's voice. Gwen and Arthur jumped, but there was not the space to leap guiltily apart. "Ask me what?"

"Nothing," said Arthur at the same moment that Gwen said, "Marry us."

Arthur waited through the deep silence that followed. Then Merlin said, sounding quite normal, "All right. I have to do everything else around here so..."

Arthur kicked him.

"Ow."

"You mean congratulations," said Arthur.

"Thank you," whispered Gwen to Merlin.

"My lady! Silence please!" hissed Oleander.

Arthur felt Merlin's hand land on his shoulder. He grasped it for a moment in thanks. "Go to sleep," whispered Merlin. And perhaps it was an enchantment, or exhaustion, but at once Arthur sighed, smiled at Gwen, and slept.


	8. Chapter 8

Gwen stood still as the Dread King rushed towards her. She could sense Arthur close by, and Oleander, and Merlin, concealed beneath the magic cloak. She could not speak to them but she knew she must stand fast until the very last moment.

"At last you are mine," said the King, landing in front of her, his taloned feet clutching at the sand. He shook out his leathery wings, spraying sand in Gwen's face. "You thought to sacrifice yourself and save your people. A noble thought, but your thoughts are not why I admire you." He leered at her, with hot, meaty breath.

"I will never be yours," said Gwen. Her voice trembled. "No matter what you do, I belong to another."

The Treacherous Quarter was behind her. If she took two steps back she would tread the thin crust of dried sand, and it would crack and send her tumbling into the abyss.

The Dread King laughed. "You think you know love," he said. "But love does not exist. All thoughts are base when you look closely enough."

"That's not true," said Gwen. "You must not judge others by your own foul standards." She took one step back.

"I do not judge them by mine," said the King. "I judge them by yours, and yours give me hope indeed."

He reached for Gwen with clawed hands, but she flinched away. "My love is only for my husband," she said. "And his is only for me."

She closed her eyes as the Dread King lunged for her, then stepped backwards into the abyss.

* * *

The howl was dreadful indeed, a scream of winds and waste. The Dread King fell, shoved by Arthur with a kick to the back of the spine. The shriek of defeat clawed the walls of the abyss, falling, flailing, raging.

Gwen's scream went with it, down and down, and her scream was Arthur's name. She prayed for an end but only kept on falling.

Then, "I've got you," Merlin's voice, and a sensation like a net all around her.

Shouts as Arthur and Oleander hauled her, safe in Merlin's magic cloak, back to the surface and dragged her over the lip of the abyss and back, away from the Treacherous Quarter, and onto solid sand. Gwen cried and cried and Merlin gently unpicked the remnants of the magical black cloak from her hair and face, and allowed Arthur to take all the credit for her comfort.

* * *

The camp had caught them up, and surrounded them, joyous at the defeat of the Dread King, but wary of the winged fiends which still thronged, blackening the sky.

"The Dread King cannot survive the abyss," said Merlin. "Nothing can."

"Then all we need is a pure love's kiss," said Gwen. She turned to Arthur, her eyes shining like the silver ring on her finger.

Oleander frowned, then gaped as Arthur caught Gwen in his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Majesty..."

Gwen tangled her fingers in Arthur's hair. Her lips came willingly to his and at last it seemed that the world would be right. He pressed his body tight to hers, his healed leg, her wounded arm. His hands roamed over her back, unwilling to stop, until she squeaked a protest.

Arthur laughed, breaking the kiss and holding Gwen away from him. They looked at the sky.

"The demons are still there," said Merlin unnecessarily.

"What does that mean?" said Gwen. She bit her lip.

"Majesty," said Oleander stiffly, recovering his composure after their display. "Will you please introduce your _betrothed_." His sword hand clenched, making it quite clear that there was no embracing of the Queen without the certain intent to honor her.

"Yes," said Gwen. "We can explain-"

"But later," said Arthur. "What's gone wrong? Merlin?" Surely it could not be that the pure love was not between himself and Gwen? Surely it could not be - Gwen and Merlin?

Merlin frowned. "I'm not sure. The book said just that it had to be a kiss of pure love. Unsullied. I dunno."

Arthur felt his face grow hot. Unsullied. He and Gwen in his chambers. He and Gwen exchanging kisses and more than kisses, all that night. "Ah."

"Oh no," said Gwen. The crowd was staring at them. "I don't know how to say this but -"

"Our love isn't pure," said Arthur quickly.

"Arthur!" said Merlin. "You can't say about the -"

Arthur cut across him. "It was pure, but then we allowed jealousy and bitterness to tarnish it. I know that we will overcome this, but it must mean that the spell cannot be broken by us." He glowered at Merlin.

"Oh," said Merlin. "I thought you were going to tell about the-"

"No," said Gwen. She swung around, calling out to her people. "A pure love," she said. "Who here can demonstrate a pure love?" People shook their heads in silence.

Oleander knelt at Gwen's feet. "I have loved you a long time, my lady," he said. "But I have admired your form as well as your wisdom, and so my love is not pure."

Gwen blushed pink. "I understand," she said. "You have served me with honor. There is no one I would rather have beside my throne."

"This is all very marvellous," said Arthur, "but it's not helping us get rid of the demons."

"They're getting closer," said Merlin. He rubbed his head. "Listen. You go. I'll stay here, hold them off as long as I can."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Arthur. "I'll stay."

"No," said Gwen. "I have the answer." She beckoned to Arthur. "There is a pure love among us. Someone who loves selflessly, wanting only good, seeing only the best." She touched Arthur's cheek, and saw him shiver. But that was for later. "Who loves the truest, who loves the longest, whose love cannot be corrupted? Who asks for nothing, risks everything, holds back no part which might help?"

Arthur caught her meaning at once. "Someone who loves even when it damages his own interests. Someone loyal and brave, who has fought every battle at my side, although I wear armour and he has none."

"Merlin," said Gwen. She released Arthur and ran to Merlin. "You are the truest friend I have ever known." She kissed his cheek.

"There is none truer," said Arthur. He hung his arm around Merlin's shoulders and kissed his forehead. "Even if you are an idiot."

Merlin grinned, tears standing in his eyes. He clasped Arthur's and Gwen's hands in both his own and let his lips touch them for a moment. "I'm not so much of an idiot," he said. "Look."

The sky was clearing, the fiends dissolving into clouds and the clouds into deep ocean blue .

A cheer went up from the camp.

"That was close," said Arthur. He squeezed Gwen close with one arm, and clapped Merlin on the back with his other hand.

Merlin loosed a fire bolt after the last wisps of demon as it disappeared into the wind. "Nah," he said. "It was never close." His eyes glinted at Arthur, the glint of magic and mischief.

"Idiot," said Arthur.

"Do you want to get married or not?" said Merlin.

Arthur subsided. "Good point."

* * *

The night after a victory is a raucous time. Men drink, women allow more favours than is wise, and children don't go to bed on time. Gwen went among her people, sharing their joy. Arthur and Merlin sat by the fire in Gwen's tent well into the wolf hour.

"No wolves here," said Merlin.

"That's not a reason to change what I call it." Arthur stretched his legs out and gulped at the bottle of wine, then passed it to Merlin.

"Gwen's people call it the no candle hour," said Merlin.

How did Merlin always know these things?

"Because even though it's dark you can still know the face of your lover," said Merlin, quite without expression.

"Huh." Arthur shifted in his seat. The business with Gwen was still a little awkward. He and Merlin had not spoken further of it. And Merlin had performed the marriage ceremony. Arthur was not sure he would ever get over the guilt of that, although Gwen had no qualms.

Merlin swigged wine. "The next hour is called the wrong tent hour because it's so dark."

Arthur laughed.

"Wish me luck," said Merlin, standing. "A lot of tents look the same."

"Whose tent," said Gwen, appearing. She wore her Camelot dress, Arthur saw in the firelight.

"Not saying," said Merlin. He grinned and ducked out of the tent, taking the wine with him.

Gwen sat down. "Someone's feeling optimistic."

"With reason," said Arthur. "He's the champion of Camelot. That generally attracts a lot of attention."

"Does it?"

"I'm king," he said. "Not champion. And after what Merlin has done for me, for you, for Camelot, I can never be champion. It will always be him."

She nodded. "I'm coming home with you."

He waited.

"Oleander will rule in my place. The vote has already occurred. It is settled."

"Good," said Arthur softly.

They sat a while, and the fire died down.

"Is there wine," said Gwen.

"Merlin took it."

She chuckled. "Water, then."

He poured her a cupful, and offered it. She drank then gave it back to him. He sipped too, and just like that their marriage was sealed, as equals, sharing a cup of water, sharing acceptance of all that had passed between them, and the promise of what was to come.

Arthur stood, and held out his hand. Gwen took it, and led him towards her bed. Then she stopped. "Wait. A candle."

Arthur laughed, and swept her into his arms. She was beautiful, she loved him, and she allowed him this privilege. No amount of candlelight or darkness could cast a shadow over that. "It's all right," he said. "We don't need one."


End file.
